


A Cottage Christmas

by awesomecherry



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Secret Santa Fic, Steve and Bucky get the vacation they deserve, Steve is canonically catholic, Steve is de-serumed by magic, bucky taking care of steve, minor religious undertones, preserumsoldier, with a tiny bit of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5791951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecherry/pseuds/awesomecherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas should be in the air, there should be sleigh bells ringing and decorations plastered everywhere, Steve should be dragging Bucky through the nearest Christmas tree farm, and worrying about which tree will fit in their tiny Brooklyn apartment, and what huge monstrosity Stark will insist they buy for their spacious floor in Avenger’s Tower. </p>
<p>Instead, what’s in the air is apparently enough pollen to have Steve wheezing for breath with every step, the constant ringing of sleigh bells is giving Bucky a migraine, and Steve doesn’t have to worry about buying a tree because apparently he’s allergic to them. </p>
<p>Steve snorts when he hears the song The 12 Days of Christmas, and immediately starts hacking up a lung, more like the 12 days of hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cottage Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Aphi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Aphi/gifts).



> *Shows up a month late with 17k of shrinkyclinks fluff (and a teeny tiny bit of porn)* I am so sorry about the ridiculous wait, Aphi! You deserve so much better, but this is what I have to give you. <3 ( p.s. my inspiration for Steve was a particularly grumpy Chihuahua)

Bucky’s two days into a solo mission when Fury breaks the radio silence order to transmit one message.  _ You’re going to want to come home for this _ . Bucky curses up a blue streak, and has to resist the urge to chuck his satellite phone off the nearest cliff. He has his gear packed and ready to go in less than 3 minutes.

Fury may be a vague son of a bitch, but if he broke protocol to send a message Bucky’s way, Bucky’s damn well going to listen to it.

A transport team is waiting for him at the extraction point a couple miles outside of the no-name city he was assigned to monitor, just like he knew there would be. He grunts at the pilot, thankful his reputation as a monosyllabic, grumpy asshole always precedes him, and he doesn’t have to attempt to make small talk with the SHIELD -or whatever they’re calling themselves- employees. 

All his focus goes to keeping calm, and not dwelling on the literal hundreds of worst case scenarios that come to his mind. He grips the armrests harder than intended, crumpling one completely under metal fingertips. It’s all he can do to keep from throwing the pilot out of the cockpit and flying himself home. 

His glare and body language must give something of his thoughts away because the hum of the engine kicks up a notch, whirring loudly as the jet increases speed. If he were able to feel anything but crushing anxiety, Bucky would be highly amused.

“We’re landing now, Sir.” The pilot calls over his shoulder, relief evident in his voice. “An escort is waiting for you on the landing strip.”

“What, Fury doesn’t trust me to get there on my own?” Bucky unbuckles and shoulders his duffle bag, steadying himself against the wall while the jet descends onto the landing strip. “Now I’m really worried.”

“He’s not the only one.” The pilot mutters to his co-pilot as he opens the bay door.

Bucky waits until he’s halfway down the ramp to shout back, “I heard that!”  He brushes right past the two men clearly waiting to escort him, and heads for the elevator. He figures, correctly, that there’s only really one place Steve could be and that’s med bay.

His escorts scramble to catch up, shock keeping them from reacting immediately, and by the time they’ve processed what’s happened, Bucky’s holding the close door button down and mock saluting his would-be escorts as the doors shut between them. Bucky relishes his little victory as the elevator carries him closer to Steve. 

His view of Steve is blocked by the backs of a couple of the Avengers when he gets off the elevator, but when they turn to see who’s coming in, they give Bucky a perfect line of sight to Steve.

He stops breathing for a second, heart stuttering in his chest, because Steve is lying unconscious, looking vulnerable and  _ tiny. _ It’s the Steve he remembers in his dreams, the one he still hasn’t gotten used to not seeing when he opens his eyes in the morning.

He stands frozen in the doorway for a few heartbeats, before the pull to go to Steve’s side becomes too strong and he finds himself standing at the head of Steve’s bed. He watches the shaky rise and fall of Steve’s frail chest, listens to the heart monitor beat out an unsteady rhythm, and can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s dreaming this whole thing.

“What happened?” He asks, unsteady and off balance. He can’t take his eyes off of Steve, is terrified if he looks away even for a second he’ll wake up in some Hydra cell. This is the Steve he first remembered with Hydra, the one he thought was a figment of his imagination, the Steve they took away from him first. “Is he-” He stutters over his words. “Okay?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Tony says gleefully behind him. “He hasn’t woken up since the whole thing went down, but Bruce thinks that normal. The doctors said his vitals are fine from what they know of his health status pre-serum. I can’t wait for him to wake up, he’s going to freak out! Jarvis, you have the camera rolling right?”

“Did you catch the asshole that did this?” Bucky asks instead of saying the million insults he wants to yell at Tony for letting this happen to Steve in the first place. He brushes a hand through Steve’s hair, just as soft as he remembers, and settles in the chair next to Steve’s bed. The anxiety is fading the longer he listens to the beat of Steve’s heart, the more skin he touches, grounding him with the knowledge it’s real, Steve’s real and alive, and  _ right there _ .

Tony backs up a step, all traces of amusement fading from his face. “Um.”

“Then why are you standing here?” Bucky glowers, and pulls a knife out of his pocket, flipping it in the air menacingly a few times, before casually using it to clean out the grime from under his nails. It’s easier to be angry than scared, and he’s made it his personal life mission to fuck with Stark as often as possible. Howard would expect nothing less.

Tony takes a few more steps away from Steve’s bed. “Excuse me for making sure your boyfriend was resting peacefully and you know, not in a coma or something, before I went back out after the bad guy.”

“You were just hoping he’d wake up so you could make fun of him to his face.” Bucky uses the knife to point at Tony, one eyebrow quirked knowingly.

“I’m a multitasker!”

“Well, now that you know he’s in the hands of competent doctors, feel free to go hunt down the asshole that did this before I have to do it for you.” Bucky jerks his chin towards the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell him how concerned you were.”

“You take the fun out of everything.” Tony pouts, not moving.

“Get out before I throw you out.” Bucky leans forward menacingly. He likes Tony just fine but the last thing Steve needs is to wake up and be subjected to Tony Stark’s sense of humor.

“This is  _ my _ building!”

“Out!”

“Who died and made him Captain?” Tony mutters to Bruce, who pointedly ignores him as he reads over Steve’s lab results.

Bucky gets to his feet, chair clattering back behind him, and steps to the side like he’s going to come around the bed and beat some decency into Tony, but Tony waves him off and scurries out of the med bay in a very manly, and not at all frightened manner.

Bucky huffs a laugh and grins at Bruce as he fixes his chair and plops back in it. Arguing with Tony has drained the rest of his anxiety away. He makes a mental note to go easy on Stark the next time they’re in the ring together. “So what’s the word, Doc? Please tell me you’re going to be able to fix this before Sleeping Beauty here wakes up.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.” Bruce says apologetically, holding out Steve’s test results for Bucky to read. “I’m not even sure what exactly caused this, let alone how to reverse it.”

Bucky scans the labs quickly, finding what he suspected, lower oxygen levels in his blood, low white blood count, suspected anemia, asthma, and scoliosis. Bucky’s sure there will be more to add to list once Steve’s awake, like all of his food allergies and his color blindness. “So what happened? Was this Hydra? Fury should have called me back if you were going back out after Hydra.”

“I wasn’t called out for this one, but Tony said it was just some kid playing at being a real life Harry Potter.” Bruce glances over to make sure Bucky gets the reference, waiting until Bucky gestures for him to continue. “According to Natasha and Clint, there was a flash of bright light, a moment of intense heat, and when they blinked the spots out of their vision, there was a crater in the ground with this much smaller version of Steve in it, and the kid was gone.”

Bucky grinds his jaw, focuses on keeping his fingers light and soothing as they card through Steve’s hair.  The guilt rushes back, a low-simmering anger starting to burn brighter in his stomach for agreeing to leave Steve for any length of time in the first place. He should have been there to watch Steve’s six. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing you can do?”

Bruce sighs and drags a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I’m saying that this could wear off on its own in a few hours, days, weeks, I don’t know. And if it doesn’t, Tony and I will find a way to reverse this. I already have samples of Steve’s blood on their way to Asgard, and calls out to every geneticist, biologist, doctor, and Ph.D. I thought might be able to help. We’ll figure it out.”

Bucky nods, lost in thought. “You know he never complained?” Bucky shakes his head wryly, lips quirking up at the corners as he remembers how strong Steve had been back when Bucky thought a strong breeze would make him keel over and die. “Sure he’d bitch and moan about me coddling him, complain I was stifling him, that I treated him like he was fragile. But he never complained about his lungs seizing up when we walked back from the docks at night, never let on to how bad his back was hurtin’ him, or how tired he was all the time from too little food and not enough sleep.”

“That sounds like Steve.” Bruce replies quietly. “In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him complain about being hurt. I’ve seen his medical chart, I know how many bones he’s broken, a lot of them more than once, but you would never know that from talking to him. He’s a good man, a strong man.”

“Strongest man I’ve ever known.” Bucky admits proudly, ignoring Natasha slipping silently into the room. “The most stubborn too. He always could out-stubborn a mule, even when he was knee high and glaring at the school yard bully. He’d take a punch and get right back up, wouldn’t even bother to wipe the blood off his face, and keep right on lecturing. Getting big only made the outside match the inside.”

“You having some kind of memorial for Steve?” Natasha takes the seat across from Bucky, on the other side of Steve’s bed. “He doesn’t look dead to me.”

“Are you here for a reason other than to get on my fucking nerves?”

“Can’t I be here for both?”

“Natalia…” Bucky says warningly.

Natasha makes a face. “I told you not to call me that.” She raises her hands in surrender when Bucky looks like he’s going to argue. “Thor is escorting Steve’s blood samples to Asgard, he said he’ll try to get answers as quickly as possible.” She pauses for a second. “Actually, he said, ‘The bifrost will deliver me home to find a cure for our fallen Commander. By the grace of Odin, I shall be back before overmorrow’s setting sun’, but I think I got the gist.”

“He did not say that.” Bucky says skeptically.

“Maybe not, but that’s what he sounded like in my head.”

“He hasn’t woken up yet, has he?” Tony calls loudly as he swaggers through the door. “Oh goody, I haven’t missed it.” He grins when he sees Steve’s unconscious face. He glances between Natasha and Bucky, carefully situating himself on a table that gives him direct line of sight on Steve. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Bucky bites back the stinging retort ready at his lips when he catches Steve’s blood results on the screen of Tony’s tablet, and hears Tony muttering little notes to Jarvis as Bruce asks Natasha something. Tony’s gifted in a lot of ways, but he’s a fucking genius at pushing Bucky’s buttons. Bucky remembers Tony’s father having the same gift.

“Where’s Clint?” Bucky asks when he notices the archer is missing.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm Steve with too many people in the room when he wakes up.” Natasha answers.

Bucky raises and eyebrow and flicks his gaze to the air vent in the corner. “So he’s in the ventilations shafts?”

“So he’s in the ventilation shafts.” Natasha confirms.

“How do you do that?” Clint’s muffled complaints filter out from the vent. “I could have been in  _ any _ of the shafts.”

Bucky smiles smugly “You’re predictable.”

“I am not!” Clint yells, offended. “Natasha, tell him I’m not predictable!” When Natasha just purses her lips in reply, Clint huffs and pushes the ventilation grille out, letting it clatter on the floor, and pops his head out to mutter, “I’m a super stealthy spy, I’m not predictable. I’m the opposite of predictable. You can’t predict me!”

The bleeps from the heart beat monitor increase in the wake of silence following Clint’s outburst, making all eyes in the room turn to Steve.

“I think he’s waking up.” Clint says excitedly.

“No shit, Sherlock. Did you use your super stealthy spy skills to figure that out?” Bucky scowls at Clint.

“Settle down boys, the last thing Steve needs when he wakes up is to hear you two bickering.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

Bucky turns his glower onto Natasha. “Oh, so you know what’s best for Steve now, do you?”

Natasha glares at Bucky. “I know you need to get that stick out of your ass.”

Tony laughs and barks out, “I doubt it’s a  _ stick _ that’s wedged up there.”

Bucky surges to his feet, but halts when he feels thin fingers wrap around his wrist. He looks down, right into Steve’s bright blue eyes, and settles immediately.

“Buck.” Steve rasps.

“Heya, Stevie.” Bucky watches Steve’s brow furrow, bites his lip to keep from saying anything else while Steve processes what’s happened. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Like an elephant is sitting on my chest.” Steve raises a shaky hand to his chest, rubs his sternum with hard knuckles absent-mindedly. He stares at his hand where it’s wrapped around Bucky’s wrist. “I’m hallucinating aren’t I? This is some kind of weird nightmare?”

“Afraid not, pal.” Bucky says at the same time Tony yells, “You’re the ghost of Christmas past!”

“We need to run some more tests now that you’re awake.” Bruce adds.

“Tests? Why? I’m fine. De-serumed apparently, but fine.” Steve struggles into a sitting position, breathing hard by the time Bucky lifts the head of the bed for him. “You can fix this right?”

“We think so, yes.”

“Then I don’t need any tests run.” Steve crosses his arms stubbornly over his chest. Bucky knows that mulish expression on Steve’s face, knows Steve’s not about to let himself be poked and prodded, especially not in front of his team.

Bucky takes in the looks of morbid curiosity and thinly veiled sympathy on the faces of Steve’s teammates and makes the executive decision to get Steve some peace and quiet. “Don’t you all have somewhere to be? A certain teenage criminal to track down?”

Natasha and Clint exchange looks, and then Clint drops out of the ventilation shaft as Natasha presses a friendly kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Keep us updated, and we’ll do the same for you.” Natasha murmurs to Bucky while Clint places something on the table closest to Steve’s bed.

“Just in case.” Clint says when he catches Steve looking at the hearing aids. “Never know when they might come in handy.”

“Sam’s bringing you some clothes, Steve.” Natasha calls over her shoulder as she leaves, dragging Tony out the door with her when he makes no move to leave on his own.

Steve mutters a few choice curse words. “You guys called Sam in for this? You didn’t need to call Sam in for this.” He squints at Bucky. “Wait a second, you’re not supposed to be here either. What happened to your mission?”

“Fury called me back.” Bucky shrugs.

“Because of me? He didn’t need to do that.” Steve scowls. “It’s not like I haven’t dealt with this body before.”

“Yeah, but it’s been a long time, Stevie. You should let Bruce and the docs look you over.” Bucky sits on the edge of Steve’s bed, nudges him gently with an elbow. “C’mon, with all this new technology they’ll probably be able to find like 15 diseases you didn’t know you had.”

“That’s supposed to make me want to sit through an exam?”

Bucky grins down at Steve. “You remember when you pulled me out of that hell hole, and I told you I was fine, but you made me see that medic with the horrible overbite and sweaty hands anyway? Turnabout is fair play.”

Steve huffs, but relents. “Only Bruce. I don’t need a bunch of doctors running tests on me. You do what you have to do Dr. Banner.”

“I’m not a medical doctor, Steve.”

“Take it or leave it. It’s you or I get up and walk out of here.” Steve raises a brow challengingly at Bruce. “Final offer.”

Bruce glances at Bucky for confirmation, and Bucky waves him over. “We’ll take it.”

Bruce keeps up a steady stream of conversation as he draws some more blood, and does a basic exam, testing Steve’s reflexes, eyesight, and hearing. Most of what Bruce says goes right over Bucky’s head, and from the distant look in Steve’s eyes, Bucky thinks Steve’s not registering it either.

Bruce says something about the half-life of spells, and rates of cellular regeneration, and that he and Tony plan to work around the clock to find the cure, to which Steve grunts noncommittaly. Bruce looks over at Bucky, startled by Steve’s non-reaction. Bucky shrugs and shakes his head. Steve is obviously lost in his own head.

“Thanks Doc.” Bucky says when Bruce has finished and proclaimed Steve to be in perfect health; the ‘ _ except for all his known medical conditions’ _ is left unsaid. “He okay to go back to our apartment?”

“That’s fine, just let one of us know if you need anything.”

 ∞ 

Steve expected it would be difficult to adjust to being tiny and sickly again, but he didn’t realize just how hard it would be. The hot shower he takes when he gets back to his and Bucky’s apartment irritates his lungs, leaving him gasping and wheezing by the time he’s drying off. Bucky, trying to be kind, orders them food from his favorite Indian restaurant, but Steve is apparently allergic to one of the main ingredients and Bucky has to inject him with an epi-pen. The anaphylaxis causes an asthma attack that a few hits of his brand new inhaler can’t fix, so he has to endure Bruce talking him through having a nebuliser treatment.

He feels so wrung out and tired after his second shower, not nearly as hot as he would have liked it to be in deference to his lungs, that he doesn’t even complain about Bucky thoroughly ridding their apartment of anything he might be allergic to.

When he falls into bed, groaning as his spine creaks and pops as he settles in, he wonders how he survived before the serum came along, and more importantly, how he’ll survive until he’s back in his post-serum body. He passes out and is woken up shortly afterwards by an incessant itch all over his body. The down comforter and detergent get thrown away. 

It doesn’t get easier from there. 

Steve struggles to adjust to not being able to breathe properly, to the constant low-level (and he only considers it low level because it’s not as bad as being shot multiple times) pain in his back, to Bucky’s never ending mother-henning, and the crushing feeling of guilt because he’s no longer useful.

When Sam drops by the morning after he’s unceremoniously de-serumed, Steve refuses to come out of his room. He feels bad when he hears Bucky politely thanking Sam for the clothes and gently explains that Steve’s ‘indisposed’. He’s only glad he can’t see Sam’s face when he’s turned away.

He wants to be angry, and he is for a hot minute. He completely trashes their room, punches holes in the wall, doing more damage to his fists than the plaster, and screams himself hoarse into his pillow. But the anger completely drains out of him when Bucky carefully and silently picks up pieces of the things Steve’s broken and cleans up after him. After that, he just feels empty.

He’s forgotten some of the things he was allergic to, and finds even more new things from this century to add to his ever growing allergy list. He spends more time those first couple days with his throat swelling shut and hives on his skin than in the twenty plus years before the serum. It’s hell.

Bucky does his best to keep Steve’s spirits up, alternately offering comfort or space depending on Steve’s mood, and generally being completely amazing about the whole thing. If Steve were in a better headspace, were able to get out of his head at all, and notice the look of wonder and amazement and a little bit of lust in Bucky’s eyes, he would be so fucking appreciative. Instead Steve remains stubbornly sullen and frustrated, hiding away in their apartment until Bucky physically drags him out of it. 

“Sam recorded a movie he thought you might want to see. Apparently, there’s something called a ‘mockumentary’ of all the Captain America documentaries, and the actors they cast look just like us. Should be interesting to watch.”

Steve’s irritation flares up a notch higher at Bucky’s ‘soothing voice’, the one he used to use when Steve was itching for a fight with some bully or another and Bucky wanted to talk him out of it. It didn’t work in the 30’s and it sure as hell doesn’t work in the new century, if anything, it makes Steve want to start a fight just for the hell of it. He grunts in acknowledgment.

He’s just about got his temper under control when the elevator doors open on the common room floor and the team, sans Thor who’s still in Asgard, but plus Pepper, Maria Hill, Sam, and James Rhodes are all crowded around the living room couch trying to act like they haven’t been waiting for Steve to show up.

Steve freezes for a split second, before glaring at Bucky and hissing, “Did you know everyone would be up here?”

Bucky’s face takes on a carefully blank look. “They care about you. They just want to know that you’re okay.”

Steve gives Bucky an unimpressed look, but steps out of the elevator and heads towards his friends. “You all want to watch this ‘mockumentary’ thing? It must be good.”

“How’re you doing, Steve?” Pepper asks at the same time Sam grins and says, “It’s good to see you up and moving around man.”

Steve doesn’t have a chance to answer before Bruce is asking, “Is the inhaler working for you? Do we have the dosage right?” and Clint is yelling, “Just turn the hearing aids off, Captain. It’s how I deal with them all.”

Steve watches Natasha punch Clint lightly, for her, on the arm, not breaking conversation with Maria, both women flicking looks of concern his direction in a way Steve is sure is meant to be subtle. His hands clench inside his pockets. It’s too much, too soon. He feels his breath start to catch in his chest, lungs going tight as he tries to breathe through the rising panic.

“Hey, you okay Steve?” Sam asks, rising from his seat.

Steve doesn’t see Bucky wave Sam off, but he’s sure that’s what happens, because the next thing he knows, Bucky’s big, calloused hands are on his back, grounding him, and Sam is cautiously sitting back down, looking like he swallowed something sour.  

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Steve tries to assure them all, embarrassment sending waves of heat across his face. “Still not used to these lungs, I guess.” He tries to grin, aware that it probably comes off more like a grimace.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to get used to them for long.” Tony says, smiling widely. “In fact, I think our Honey, I Shrunk Captain America experience will be over fairly soon. We might even have a real Christmas miracle on our hands. Just call me Father Christmas.”

Steve  _ knows _ joking is just part of Tony’s personality, is his way of dealing with stressful things, his attempt to put people at ease. But Steve’s not feeling particularly rational. “Do you have to treat everything like it’s a fucking joke?” He explodes. “Is  _ this _ a joke, me being this way is funny to you?” He doesn’t let Tony answer, ignores the shocked faces of his teammates. “Of course it is! You get to play your father, make me big again. It’s fucking hilarious. It’s a real knee-slapper for me too.”

“Okay, Stevie, why don’t we do something else? Let’s go eat some dinner, yeah? How does that sound?” Bucky guides Steve away from a stricken looking Tony with a hand gripped firmly in the back of Steve’s shirt, back towards the elevator.

Steve slaps Bucky’s hand away from the control panel when it looks like Bucky is going to hit the button for their apartment floor. “I’m not hungry and I don’t want to go back to our fucking apartment.” He says through clenched teeth, jabbing the button for the floor the gym is on.

“You know he didn’t mean anything by that.” Bucky says softly, stepping back to give Steve some space. “He was just being Tony.”

“I don’t want to hear it right now.” Steve jabs the button repeatedly, trying to urge the elevator into going faster. “I don’t want to hear anything right now. I just want to beat the shit out of a punching bag until I no longer feel like destroying everything in sight. Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever you need, Stevie.”

Steve grits his teeth. He  _ wants _ Bucky to stop being so goddamn nice to him. He doesn’t deserve it, and he doesn’t want it. He wants to be angry, wants to feel the sweet adrenaline of pure rage roaring through his veins, not guilt for being the total asshole he knows he’s being. He’s angry because he doesn’t want to be angry at all. He wants Bucky to never stop being nice to him, wants Bucky to insist they go back to their apartment and take a bath, then cuddle on the couch, wants Bucky to hold him and never let him go.

But he’ll settle for beating the shit out of a punching bag.  

He makes a beeline towards the nearest punching bag as soon as the elevator doors open, not stopping to tape up his hands or to change into more appropriate clothing. His skin feels tight and wrong, like he’s about to come bursting out of it. The anger simmering in him boils over, every pent up emotion he’s been repressing comes to the surface and he starts wailing on the bag, making sure he can feel each punch all the way down in his bones.

The more he punches the worse he feels; the anger isn’t burning out of him, instead it builds and builds without cresting. He can’t seem to punch hard enough to get the satisfaction he’s seeking, and the harder he pushes himself, the more his body betrays him. His muscles seize up, shaking from exertion, and his breath seizes in his chest, throat constricted with emotion. The weight of Bucky’s gaze on his back is suddenly too much for Steve to handle.

“Stop looking at me!” He yells, swinging wildly at the punching bag, the force of his punch making him nearly plow into the punching bag himself. “Just stop!” Steve leans over and wheezes, hands on his knees, glaring up at Bucky when Bucky hurries over, hands reaching out towards Steve. “Don’t.”

Bucky pauses for a second, eyes searching Steve’s face, before he pulls out Steve’s inhaler and tosses it to him. “You wanna be mad, go ahead and be mad, Stevie. But don’t think you can push me away by acting like a complete asshole because I’m not going anywhere.” He waits for Steve to take a couple hits from his inhaler. “You’re pissed, I get that.”

“Oh, you get it do you?” Steve spits out, one trembling hand splayed out on his chest as he tries to catch his breath. “You just know exactly what I’m going through?”

“If you’ll remember, I  _ also _ know what it’s like to have your body be out of your control, to have it be suddenly different than it’s supposed to be, different than you’re used to.” Bucky says casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

That makes Steve instantly contrite, face paling as Bucky’s words sink in. “Bucky, I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant, Stevie.” Bucky waves his apology off.  “And I know what’s really bothering you.” Bucky steps forward, crowds Steve against the punching bag. “Listen to me closely, Stevie. You are  **not useless** . You are  **not a burden** . You’re still Steve Rogers, still Captain America, and you’re still the strongest, most stubborn, infuriatingly sexy man I have ever met.”

Steve sags, and leans forward into Bucky’s open arms. “I hate this.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Shut up.” Steve punches Bucky’s chest lightly, knuckles bruised black and blue. “I just…. I can’t stand the sympathy and the  _ constant check-ins _ .” He pitches his voice louder for the last part of his sentence, and hears a thud from the ventilation shafts that signifies Clint got the message. “I know they mean well, but I just can’t deal with it.” He rubs his face against the soft cotton of Bucky’s shirt. “What if they can’t fix this? What if I’m stuck like this?”

“Obviously, I’d have to dump you and go find someone else.” Bucky deadpans.

“You’re a dick.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Bucky slips cold metal fingers up the back of Steve’s shirt, traces over his vertebrae with careful fingers. “You’re not going to be stuck like this. The greatest minds on this planet,” He tilts his head thoughtfully, “Scratch that, the greatest minds on  _ several _ planets, are working on a cure.”

“But-”

“But,” Bucky continues, cradling Steve’s jaw with his other hand, holding eye contact. “If for some unlikely and unforeseeable reason you get stuck like this, we’ll figure it out. Hell, maybe it would be a good thing. We could get away, go rent some dingy apartment in a city we’ve never lived in, spend all day fucking. Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

Steve’s breathing kicks up a notch, pupils dilating as Bucky leans forward to kiss him sweetly. “I could live with that.” He murmurs against Bucky’s lips, throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck.

“I thought that might appeal to you.” Bucky whispers against the shell of Steve’s ear, giving the lobe a light bite, making Steve shiver. “What do you say we take this somewhere a little more private? Clint is not the only member of your team keeping tabs on you. I mean, unless you feel like giving Natalia a show.”

“I told you not to call me that!” Natasha yells from the observation deck. “And it’s not like I haven’t already seen you two going at it!”

Steve laughs as Bucky picks him up, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist and flipping Natasha the bird as Bucky carries him to the elevator. His next laugh ends in a moan when Bucky trails kisses down his throat to the sensitive spot where his neck meets his shoulder and bites down hard enough to leave a mark. Steve suddenly remembers _these marks_ _won’t fade_ and moans even louder. 

Steve’s hands scramble for purchase on the elevator wall when Bucky pins him against it, grinding their hips together and sucking a bruise high up on Steve’s neck where everybody will be able to see it. “Bucky, fuck.”  He settles for tangling his hands in Bucky’s long hair, keeping his head right where he wants it. 

“We’re getting there.” Bucky mumbles, just loud enough for Steve to hear, and slides a hand between their bodies to palm at the front of Steve’s pants. “I remember the last time you were small enough for me to pick you up, right before I shipped out. You remember, Stevie? Remember me pinning you against our too thin bedroom wall, fucking you until you passed out? I had to cover your mouth with my hand to keep you from getting the cops called on us, and it still wasn’t enough. Mrs. McCrory looked at us funny for days, I thought she was gonna have us hauled out of there.”

“Sirs, the elevator has been on your floor for several minutes now. Is there a problem I can help with?” Jarvis’ voice floats down from the ceiling, nearly drowned out by Steve’s harsh panting and hiccupped gasps. 

“No, we’re fine.” Bucky’s voice is rough and gravelly, sending sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine. Bucky’s voice only goes deep and growly when he’s  _ really _ turned on. “No need to alert anyone.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to suck marks that fade far too quickly on Bucky’s neck as Bucky carries him inside their apartment. He’s so distracted by biting a bruise onto Bucky’s adam’s apple that he lets out a surprised huff of air when he’s dropped on his back on their bed. He looks and meets Bucky’s eyes, completely blown away by the amount of love and desire that’s visible in Bucky’s gaze.

“Jesus, Stevie,  _ baby _ , the way you look.” Bucky says it like he’s not sure it’s real, like he’s been given some precious gift he thinks might be taken away at any second. It floors Steve, seeing the proof of just how much Bucky loves him.  

Steve bites his lip, chewing on it nervously when Bucky strips off his shirt and kicks off his shoes. He also remembers the last time he and Bucky had sex before the serum, and just like then, Steve can’t help the feelings of inadequacy when faced with Bucky’s toned body. He had forgotten how inferior he felt compared to Bucky, and that was when Bucky was 40 pounds of muscle lighter.

“I know what you’re thinking, Stevie.” Bucky says, crawling his way up between Steve’s legs. He straddles Steve’s hips and leans forward, pressing their chests together so that he can kiss Steve hungrily. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous, every inch of you. I’ve always known you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever see.”

Steve flushes all the way down his chest  and lifts his arms to wrap them around Bucky’s neck, but Bucky pulls away before he can. “Nu-uh.” Bucky grins teasingly, catching Steve’s hands when they reach out to pull him back down. “You don’t believe me. I’m gonna change that.”

“Bucky, c’mon, you don’t have to do that.” Steve squirms under Bucky, rocking his hips up into Bucky’s ass until Bucky’s weight is lifted off of him. He yelps when Bucky flips him over and covers his back.

“I don’t have to.” Bucky agrees, kissing the sensitive spot right behind Steve’s ear as he tugs Steve’s pants and underwear down his legs. “But I want to. I really,  _ really _ want to.”

Steve’s knees are gently shoved under him, pants caught on his ankles trapped by his shoes, shirt shoved up to his shoulder blades so Bucky can kiss a path down his spine, sucking a light mark onto each vertebrae as he goes until his breath ghosts over Steve’s ass. His next breath catches in his throat, caught on a groan when Bucky bites down on one pert cheek. 

“Bucky.” Steve whines, wiggling his ass back in invitation. Arousal floods his system when Bucky thumbs his cheeks open and licks a stripe over his hole, all traces of embarrassment or inferiority vanishing. “Buck, please.”

Never let it be said that Steve Rogers is above begging to get what he wants.  

“So impatient.” Bucky tsks, gripping Steve’s hips to keep him from thrusting back on his face, making Steve whimper. “And  _ noisy _ , always so noisy. Good thing you don’t have to be quiet here.”

Steve grips the pillow under his head, tries to bury his face in it as Bucky places open mouthed kisses on his rim, but his breathing becomes too labored when Bucky pushes his tongue past the rim that Steve has to turn his face to the side, his loud moans filling the room. “Bucky, yes, please. More, gimme more.” He stutters, hips jerking with every thrust and swirl of Bucky’s tongue.

Steve thought his post-serum body was more sensitive, had made everything more pleasurable than it was before, but he was wrong. Every nerve ending in his body is lit up, waves of pleasure crawling down his spine, settling low in his belly, making him gasp and moan, head turning mindlessly back and forth on the pillow as Bucky eats him out. “Bu-Bucky, pl-eaaassseee.” He whines.

Bucky gives Steve exactly what he wants, nibbling nice and light on Steve’s hole, drags the edge of a sharp tooth over his wet rim, pushes his tongue in as deep as he can and curls it. He licks Steve until Steve is damn near sobbing from the stimulation, until Steve’s breath catches in his chest and he’s rolling his hips down into the mattress, begging for relief, and then he licks some more.

Bucky keeps going until Steve is limp with pleasure, before he flips Steve onto his back, presses two fingers inside Steve’s wet, loose hole and takes Steve’s cock down to the root, swallowing around the tip buried in his throat.

Steve’s mouth hangs open, breathing hard and fast as he fucks up into Bucky’s mouth, riding the thin line of orgasm. When Bucky hums and swallows around Steve again, Steve can’t help but spill down Bucky’s throat, moaning hoarsely. It feels like he comes forever, Bucky sucking him through it until Steve whimpers with oversensitivity before finally pulling away.

Steve’s breathing slowly evens out, and he reaches out sleepily towards Bucky. “What about you?” He mumbles, eyes sliding shut as Bucky takes off his shoes and pulls his pants off completely. He shrugs out of his shirt when Bucky tugs on it and then happily curls into Bucky’s warmth as soon as Bucky lies down on the bed next to him.

Bucky brushes the sweaty hair off of Steve’s forehead, pulls Steve even closer to him and whispers, “M’fine, Stevie. Go to sleep.”

Steve is fast asleep before Bucky’s even finished his sentence.

∞

Bucky’s hushed voice wakes Steve up the next morning. He opens one eye blearily, searching for the source of the other noise slowly filtering into his mind. He spots Bucky in the corner of their bedroom, shoving clothes into duffle bags, phone tucked into the crook of his neck as he has a whispered conversation with whoever’s on the other end of the line.

“What’re you doin?” Steve rubs the sleep out of his eyes, groaning when he stretches and his back pops pleasantly. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Good morning, sunshine. Up and at ‘em.” Bucky grins at Steve, covering the mouthpiece of his cell phone with one hand. “We’re leaving as soon as you’re dressed.”

“We’re going somewhere?” Steve blinks slowly in confusion and slides out of bed, completely naked. “Where are we going?”

It takes Bucky a moment to drag his eyes away from their perusal of Steve’s body to meet Steve’s raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. “It’s a surprise.” He holds up a hand to stop Steve from asking any other questions. “Just trust me on this. You’ll like it. Now put on some clothes and go eat some breakfast.”

Steve watches, amused, as Bucky thanks whoever he’s talking to and hangs up, zipping up and carrying out the bags he packed. “Hurry up, Stevie.” Steve hears him call right before the  _ ding _ of the elevator.

Steve finds that Bucky’s good mood has rubbed off on him, a voice in his head that sound a lot like Tony adds ‘ _ that’s not the only thing of his he’s rubbed off’ _ as he pulls on a pair of sweats that hand loosely around his hips and one of the shirts Sam brought over for him. He grabs an apple from the counter and chews silently on it, watching the elevator for Bucky’s return.

“You ready?” Bucky says as soon as the doors open. “Jet’s packed and ready to go.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Jet?”

Bucky motions him into the elevator, shifting impatiently until Steve’s entered and the doors are sliding shut. He hits the button for the roof. “Stark’s personal jet, courtesy of Pepper.”

Steve whistles. “How’d you manage that?”

“I’m told I’m pretty intimidating, very hard to resist.”

Steve gives Bucky his most unimpressed look.

Bucky sighs as the door slide open. “I begged Pepper to let us use it.”

“That’s what I thought.” Steve smiles smugly, following Bucky to the jet and boarding behind him. “You’re really not gonna tell me where we’re going?” He asks as he buckles himself in.

“Not even if you beg.”

The takeoff is done silently. Steve can tell Bucky is excited, he’s excited himself, but he’s also pretty anxious. He trusts Bucky to surprise him with something he’ll like, but he’s nervous about leaving the tower for the first time since being hit by the spell. Inside the tower he didn’t have to worry about people starting, or asking what happened to Captain America, but outside of the tower he doesn’t know what to expect.

Steve watches Bucky glancing at the pilot, watches the pilot send worried looks back at Bucky and confused but curious glances his way. The looks make his skin itch, and he’s about to make some smart ass comment when Bucky taps his shoulder and jerks his head towards the back of the jet where the couch is.

Steve unbuckles himself from his seat and follows Bucky to the couch, lets Bucky pull him down practically on top of him, and curls up against his side. “This is nice.” Steve sighs, resting his head in the crook of Bucky’s shoulder, legs tangled with Bucky’s.

“You know, this makes me think of that first Christmas after Becca was born.” Bucky says, apropos of nothing.

“Flying on Tony’s private jet reminds you of Christmas in the 30’s?”

“Sure does, memories are strange like that.” Bucky shrugs. “I ran away to your house on Christmas Eve because I was sure Becca was going to get all of the presents and there would be nothing for me. Your mom let me stay to have dinner with you before she sent me called my parents to come pick me up.”

“I remember that!” Steve laughs, grinning up at Bucky. “Your dad laughed so hard he damn near cried when you yelled that you didn’t want ‘Santa to like Becca better’.”

“He told mom not to punish me, in honor of the Christmas spirit and all.” Bucky adds, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “Do you remember what happened just before that, right before I left?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Mom gave you some leftovers to take home to your mom.”

“Yeah,” Bucky concedes, “but _ you _ gave me something. You gave me one of your presents.”

Understanding dawns on Steve. “We always opened our presents on Christmas Eve because Ma had to go into work early on Christmas.” He’s silent for a second, thinking back to that evening, before he says triumphantly, “I gave you my yo-yo.”

“It was the first present you ever gave me. I had that yo-yo all the way up until Hydra got their hands on me the first time. It didn’t work anymore, the string had broken and the paint was all chipped and faded, but I loved it.” Bucky smiles wide at Steve, happiness and sincerity radiating from him. “Best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

“You’re a sap.” Steve teases, but his voice is rough with emotion and he can’t help but look at Bucky with what he knows is an incredibly lovesick expression. “I can’t believe you kept that thing.”

“I kept every present you gave me.” Bucky shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Every drawing you did for me, that baseball you traded Joe McCarthy your favorite baseball card for, even that damn bible you gave me that Christmas you were sick with pneumonia. I kept ‘em all.”

“Father Daugherty gave me that bible because they thought I was gonna die.” Steve covers his face with his hand, shaking his head in remembered embarrassment. “I’d been sick for weeks, I couldn’t get out of bed, I couldn’t even draw, and I had nothing to give you. Ma told me you would like anything I gave you, and I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you, so I panicked and gave you the first thing I saw on my nightstand.”

“You could have given me a punch in the face as a present that Christmas and I would have been happy.” Bucky ducks his head to kiss Steve’s temple. “You living was all I wanted.”

“Okay, but that bible has to be the worst present I’ve ever given you.” Steve says instead of straddling Bucky and kissing him senseless like he wants to. Steve doesn’t want to permanently scar the pilot, even if Bucky would probably be 100 percent down for it. “That was a shitty Christmas.”

Bucky smiles knowingly at Steve, but allows the moment to pass without comment. “At least we didn’t have to go to midnight mass that Christmas.”

Steve groans. “Don’t remind me about midnight mass.”

“What did your mom always use to tell us when we complained?”

“She’d say, ‘we’re going to celebrate Jesus’ birthday, or there will be no more birthday celebrations in this house’.” Steve’s smile dims. “I haven’t been to a midnight mass since…” He trails off.

“Since Sarah died.” Bucky finishes for him.

“I tried. When I first woke up, I tried to go back to church, but I never went to midnight mass.”

“Maybe this year we can go together.” Bucky hugs Steve tighter to his side. “For Sarah.” Steve’s just about to tell Bucky how much he’d like that when the pilot’s voice floats back to them.

“Sergeant, Captain, we’re about to land.”

“Better buckle up.” Bucky grunts and pulls Steve to his feet, leading him back to their seats.

Steve tries to get an idea of where they are by looking out the window, but all he sees are trees, miles and miles of green forest. It’s not what he was expecting to see.  He buckles in and braces himself for the landing that is much smoother than he’s used to.

Bucky’s out of his seat before the pilot has even called the all clear, grabbing the bags and waiting impatiently for the door to be opened. “You ready, Stevie?” Bucky grins when Steve joins him by the door.

“This is the surprise? Where are we? What are we doing in the middle of nowhere?” Steve asks as he descends the ramp, taking in the beautiful looking cabin next to the private runway and the spacious land surrounding them both. It looks like something out of a national geographic magazine. The trees, the crisp, fresh air, the peace and quiet, it’s all very breathtaking for Steve.

“Well, it’s not some dingy apartment, but it’s certainly in a city we’ve never lived in before.” Bucky shoulders their bags, leaving nothing for Steve to help carry and joins Steve on the tarmac.

“We’re staying  _ here _ ?” Steve shifts excitedly in place. “Whose is it?”

“Pepper arranged it, and I didn’t ask any questions. But, judging by the private airstrip, I would hazard a guess that it probably belongs to Stark. Now are you ready to check out our sex cabin?” He strolls towards the cabin without waiting for Steve to answer.

“We are not calling it that!” Steve hurries to catch up to Bucky, laughing.

“Don’t be a fun sucker, Stevie.” Bucky chides him, grinning bigger than Steve’s seen in a long time. It’s the same carefree grin Steve loved so much before the war. Steve bites his lip to keep a very unmanly sound of pure joy from escaping. “I’m being all romantic and shit, taking you to a beautiful cabin in the middle of a gorgeous forest. Let me have this.”

“Romantic.” Steve scoffs, unable to help the smile stretched across his face. “Says the dude who wants to name our temporary home ‘ _ sex cabin’ _ .”

“You can name the next one?” Bucky offers, pulling the door open and motioning for Steve to go inside first.

“How about I blow you in this amazing entryway, and you erase the name ‘sex cabin’ from your memory?” He grins wickedly at Bucky spinning around in the entryway to waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“How about we 69 on the nearest soft surface and agree table that discussion for now?” Bucky counter-offers, dropping the bags just inside the front door and stalking towards Steve.

“Deal.” Steve laughs and spins around, racing off down the hallway, Bucky hot on his heels.

Steve almost makes it to nearest bedroom before Bucky’s arm wraps around his waist and jerks him backwards. Bucky slings Steve over his shoulder and switches direction, heading away from the bedroom and towards the carpet. “Pepper said the carpet was amazing.”

“This place is really clean. The floors look like they’ve been polished.” Steve says and smacks Bucky’s ass just because it’s right there, and he can.

“Someone came by this morning and got the place ready for us while we were on our way here.” Bucky explains, dropping Steve gently onto the carpet. “How’s it feel?” Bucky nods at the carpet, kicking off his boots.

Steve runs his fingers over the plush carpet, giving a not completely over exaggerated moan. “Jesus, this is the softest thing I ever felt. Is it made out of cashmere or something? Holy shit, Bucky you gotta feel this.”

“Should I give you and the carpet some alone time?”  Bucky strips off his shirt, flinging it aside. “Maybe I should come back in a few minutes?”

“Get down here, you jerk.” Steve tugs on Bucky’s jeans until Bucky does as requested and fits his body over Steve’s, grinds down on him slow and dirty.  

“You want something, punk?” Bucky rolls his hips against Steve’s, careful to keep his weight from crushing Steve. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to actually get my clothes off this time.” Steve replies, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s hips.

“That the only thing you want to ‘get off’?” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and rolls them over, until he’s on his back with Steve on top of him.

“Has anyone told you that your dirty talk could use some work?” Steve kicks his shoes off and yanks his shirt off and tossing it aside. Bucky’s hands tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, helping Steve wiggle out of them.  

“That’s funny coming from the guy whose dirty talk consists only of moaning and begging.” Bucky lifts Steve with one arm effortlessly to unbutton and unzip his pants, pushing them down his hips.

Steve shivers. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but the casual display of Bucky’s strength sure gets Steve going. He leans over Bucky’s chest, suddenly desperate for skin on skin contact. “Less snarking, more coming.” He mumbles against Bucky’s lips, grinding down against Bucky’s freed erection.

Steve’s not sure if Bucky manages to get his jeans off, or he just gives up trying, but he doesn’t really care because Bucky grips his ass with one hand, helping Steve grind down, and the other hands cradles Steve’s jaw as they kiss.

“Shit, you feel so good, Stevie.” Bucky breaks the kiss to groan. “How is your ass so perfect in every size?”

“Just lucky I guess.” Steve says absentmindedly, worming a hand between their bodies to wrap it around Bucky’s dick, making Bucky moan.

Steve bites down on the meat of Bucky’s shoulder when Bucky copies him and wraps a hand around his dick, stroking him fast and hard just the way he likes. “Bucky, shit, c’mon. Please, just, fuck!”

“There’s that dirty talk I love so much.” Bucky’s hips jerk up into Steve’s fist, one of Bucky’s hands working Steve’s dick while the other dips between Steve’s cheeks to brush over his hole.

“God, yes, Bucky, fuck me.” Steve moans, rocking his ass back towards Bucky’s fingers.

“Lube’s still in the bags.” Bucky bites out, teeth grinding together as he tries to focus through the haze of pleasure starting to cloud his mind.

“Don’t care.” Steve whines and pushes back harder until the tip of one of Bucky’s fingers breaches his rim. It’s a dry friction, too dry for Steve to handle anything more than the tip,but the little bit of extra friction is just what he needs. Steve closes his eyes and buries his face in Bucky’s neck, coming completely undone when Bucky lets out a ragged moan and tightens his grip on Steve’s dick. “Buck!”

Steve comes all over Bucky’s hand and chest, forgetting all about his hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock. He grinds down through the last of his orgasm, rubbing his spent cock against Bucky’s leaking dick. “Nnuhg.” He mumbles into Bucky’s chest when he tries to tell Bucky he’ll return the favor in a minute.

“Jesus, Stevie you’re so fucking hot. Trying to take my fingers dry like that. Fuck, I can’t take how much you want it, drives me fucking crazy.” Bucky wraps his hand over Steve’s and strokes himself with both, fucking up into their fists. “Could spend all day fucking you and it still wouldn’t be enough.” It only takes a few strokes of their combined hands for Bucky to add to come all over his stomach, gasping, “Steve!” as he tumbles over the edge.

“Jesus, this carpet really  _ is _ amazing.” Bucky pants after a few seconds of silence, rubbing one hand down Steve’s back soothingly. “We have got to get one of these.”

Steve props his head on his crossed arms, staring down at Bucky’s blissed out face. “Why are we really out here, Buck?”

Bucky’s brow creases with concentration as he struggles to put his thoughts in order. “It’s our first Christmas together since the 40’s.”  He starts, tucking his free arm under his head to prop himself up a little. “We’re together, in the _ future _ , we might as well celebrate it properly. I wanted to celebrate by being alone with you.”

“And?” Steve asks, sure there’s more. There’s always more.

“And even though the tower is safe, probably the safest place we can be, I was afraid that if Tony made one more joke about your size, or anything related to it, that you were going to murder him.” Bucky admits. “I figured we could both do with some time away from everyone else.”

“You really are romantic, aren’t you?” Steve leans down to press a sweet kiss to Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t let it get out. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Bucky tugs lightly at Steve’s hair, pulling him down to give Steve a far less chaste kiss. “You ready for round two? We didn’t actually make it to the 69-ing part of our plan.”

∞

The next morning Bucky shows Steve the emergency satcom unit, but assures him the absolute only reason it would ring is if a cure for Steve’s condition is found, otherwise they’re completely on their own.

It’s a liberating feeling for Steve, not being at the beck and call of any government agency, not being responsible for saving the world or taking care of anyone but himself. There’s no villain of the week for him to fight, no aliens trying to take over the world, no one looking to him to lead them, or telling him what to do. There’s no _overwhelming_ _pressure_. It’s peaceful.

There’s only Bucky, who offers a constant source of love and comfort, is happy to cuddle on the couch and talk aimlessly, or go grocery shopping in the nearest town. It’s the most free Steve has felt since he stepped out of the gamma ray machine.

Steve can even walk around the nearest town without being recognized, is able to hold hands with Bucky in public without getting stares or hateful comments directed his way. He can do whatever he wants without an immediate media backlash. He takes full advantage of it. 

“We should buy a Christmas tree.” Steve says on their daily walk to town a few days into their impromptu vacation. Even though the cold weather is hard on his lungs, Steve finds walking around and being active keeps his asthma attacks to a minimum.

Bucky makes a show of looking around at the trees they’re surrounded by. “You think we should  _ buy _ one? I could just cut one down. Hell, I could probably punch through it with my fist, no axe needed.” His eyes light up at the thought. “That would be awesome.”

“ _ Or _ we could be like normal people and pick one out of a lot, help the economy and all that.”

“Are they even still selling trees?” Bucky plucks his beanie off his head and pulls it over Steve’s when Steve shivers. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, don’t most people have them by now?”

Steve shrugs, burrowing closer to Bucky’s side to conserve heat. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t be. We can check when we get to town.”

“We’re running out of things to do in town.” Bucky points out, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist and pulling him closer. “I think we’ve eaten at every restaurant there is, not to mention the amount of time we’ve spent in the bookstore and grocery store. What are we even going to do today?”

“We’re buying a tree.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Besides buying a tree, I mean.”

“There’s a movie theatre, one of those old ones that only shows black and white movies.” Steve catches Bucky’s look of distaste. He knows movie theatres are hit or miss for Bucky, sometimes the dark and the noise gets to him, makes it so he can’t sit still through it, makes him feel too vulnerable.  “Or we could go ice skating.”

“You want to go ice skating?” Bucky asks, surprised. 

“I don’t really care what we do, it’s just nice to be out and doing  _ something _ .” Steve says just as they get to town. He furrows his brow at the amount of foot traffic in the square, a lot more people moving a lot faster than he’s used to. He watches a man stuffed pre-wrapped packages into a cloth bag and gasps, grabbing Bucky’s arm hard. “I haven’t bought you a present yet!”

Bucky, senses on high alert from Steve’s distress, relaxes and puts his knife back in its sheath. “Jesus, Steve, I thought something was wrong!”

“Something is wrong! I can’t believe I haven’t gotten you a present yet!” Steve looks around the square at the various shops, trying to figure out present possibilities. “Okay, new plan. We go buy a tree, and then we split up for a little while so we can buy presents for each other.”

Bucky scratches the back of his neck. “I, um, already got you something.”

Steve groans and bangs his head against Bucky’s chest. “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.” He laments.

“You’re a drama queen, is what you are. It’s not a big deal! You don’t even have to get me anything.” He holds up his hands in surrender when Steve glares at him, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. “Okay, okay, you’ll get me something. How about we pick out a tree, assuming they’re still selling them, and then I’ll take the tree back to the cabin while you pick something out. How does that sound?”

Steve wavers for a moment. “Fine.”

Jimmy, owner of the hot chocolate stand Steve and Bucky have become frequent customers of, tells them the tree lot is at the edge of town and gives them a free cup of hot chocolate each along with directions when they drop by.

They don’t even make it into the lot before Steve is sneezing and coughing up a storm, breath wheezing in his chest. He tries to tell Bucky he’s fine in between coughing fits, tries to enter the lot anyway, determined to pick a tree, but Bucky threatens to throw him over his shoulder and carry Steve away. Evergreen trees are added to the list of things Steve’s allergic too.

Thankfully, the local home improvement stores sells very convincing fake trees that Bucky is more than happy to buy, in spite of Steve’s pouting. When they exit the store, fake tree slung over Bucky’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Steve finds Bucky’s reluctance to leave amusing.

“I’m not gonna keel over and die in the time it takes for me to pick out a present and for you to take the tree back to the cabin.” Steve rolls his eyes and shoos Bucky off. “Get out of here. The sooner you drop that off, the sooner you can come back and protect me from all the big, bad dangers in this town.”

For once, Bucky’s coddling doesn’t even make Steve angry. It actually feels kind of nice, to know that Bucky cares about him so much, he’s reluctant to leave him for even a brief period. He uses that feeling of being loved to bolster him through shopping.

The problem is, Steve has  _ no idea _ what he wants to get for Bucky. He’d had vague notions about drawing something special for Bucky, or making a collage, or buying Bucky the knife he’d been eyeing at their local armory (i.e. Natasha’s bedroom). He’d had lots of ideas, none of them particularly good, and none of them brought to fruition.  

He hadn’t come up with a single good idea in months, and now he has a couple of hours and a very limited selection of stores to shop in. He’s screwed. 

Steve knows he was never the best giver to begin with, at least not in the way that Bucky always seemed to be. Steve tried, he really did, but something always inevitably came up, and he was left putting together some kind of last minute gift for Bucky or his mother.   He should have known the future wouldn’t have changed that aspect. 

He’s left staring at the sea of shoppers going in and out of the small selection of shops with a burning in his lungs that he can’t fully blame on the asthma and near allergic reaction, and a churning in his gut that has nothing to do with his probable ulcer and everything to do with a sense of impending disappointment. 

He starts walking past the shops he knows won’t be of any use, the hardware store, a women’s fashion store, a store called ’50 Shades of Paint’ that has passerby’s giggling for some unknown reason, marveling at the way the crowd shoves him, walks right by him without a second glance. He never thought he’d actually  _ enjoy _ being invisible. 

Steve lets the crowd guide him, goes with the flow of the crowd and gets a good look at all the stores as he’s pulled further in further into the town center. Eventually, the crowd thins out towards the outskirts and Steve is able to move around without feeling like a sardine packed into a can.

He almost misses the shop, hidden as it is behind an arcade and half blocked by the overgrown trees on the town line. In the window, a brightly colored Captain America poster waves at Steve as he approaches and a run-down sign above the door proclaims the shop sells ‘ _ the best comics in town!’ _ . Steve has the cynical thought, that it probably sells the  _ only _ comics in town, but he’s drawn inside by morbid curiosity, and an overwhelming desire to get out of the cold, anyway.

A warm gust of air greets him as he pushes open the door, bells overhead clinking merrily and bringing him to the attention of the two teenagers browsing and the clerk behind the cashier. “You made it just in time.” The clerk, an older gentlemen with kind eyes and no hair, grins at Steve. “We’re getting ready to close, but take your time looking around. I won’t rush you.”

“Thank you.” Steve unwraps his scarf from his neck and stuffs it in his pockets. “I don’t want to put you out, I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t worry about it. You look like you could do with a bit of thawing, it’s freezing out there and I have the heat cranking in here.” The clerk, who Steve suspects is probably the owner, waves him off. “You looking for anything in particular? Anything I can help you find.”

“I’m not sure yet.” Steve says honestly.

“Last minute present?” The clerk asks knowingly, grinning when Steve nods sheepishly. “Well, we have a pretty good selection of comics if I do say so myself, and a fair bit of licensed merchandise. Our Captain America section is our most popular.” He points to back where a life size cutout of Steve stands in full uniform. “Can’t keep his stuff on the shelves these days.”

Steve wills his body not to blush, tries to look interested instead of flattered and embarrassed. “Oh yeah?” He bites the inside of his cheek, hoping it comes out casual.

“Oh yeah!” The clerk laughs. “Even the Bucky Barnes comics have been flying off the shelves. I had to add Bucky Bears back to our inventory, it’s the first time I’ve had a real clamoring for them in close to 30 years.”

“You’ve been doing this that long?” Steve picks up an iron man action figure and inspects it carefully. Tony’s goatee is wrong, and he’s definitely a lot shorter in real life.

“Longer if you can believe that.” He grins, shaking his head. “I’m Jim by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Steve.” Steve crosses the carpet to shake Jim’s hand. “I’m just here for vacation, won’t be here much longer.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “This is not what most people would consider a vacation destination.” He leans across the counter. “Although, I have heard rumors that Tony Stark has a vacation house out in the woods near here.”

Steve bites back a laugh. “You don’t say.”

“Could just be a rumor.” Jim shrugs. “Now, who’re you buying for? Maybe I could help you figure something out?”

Steve wavers for a second, debating whether to say ‘best friend’ or ‘boyfriend’. “My boyfriend.”

“He into Captain America?”

“You could say that.” Steve replies, trying really,  _ really _ hard to keep a straight face.

“How about Bucky Barnes?” Jim asks thoughtfully.

“Less than you would assume.”

“Hmmm, well I would check out the back section, see if anything there strikes your fancy. If not, come on back up and we can brainstorm.” Jim waves him towards the back with a playful shooing motion. 

Steve holds his hands up in surrender, and heads to the back of the store. He skims over the comics, not paying too much attention to them because neither he nor Bucky have ever been interested in reading the fictional accounts of their own lives. He does spend a few minutes laughing so hard he has to wave off Jim’s concerned, “Son, do I need to call an ambulance?” when he spots the cartoon rendition of ‘Bucky Barnes, child-like and in tights on a life size poster.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He gasps. “Saw something that took me by surprise.” He says by way of explanation when he can talk without laughing or coughing.

He’s still chuckling quietly to himself when he spots the perfect present. In the corner of an overcrowded shelf full of coloring books and little plastic Steve’s holding even tinier plastic shields, Steve sees a Captain America yoyo.

He picks it up, turning it over in his hands. There’s something so right about this toy being the first present he gives Bucky in this new life, their second chance to be together, a sign of how their lives have come full circle, always starting and ending with each other. 

He glances at the Bucky Bear sitting front and center on one of the shelves and makes a mental note to order one later. Bucky’s got a birthday coming up after all, and he can always attach a little knife and holster to its back later.

“I’ll take this.” He passes the yoyo over to Jim when he gets back to the counter.

Jim squints at the yoyo then raises his eyebrows at Steve. “He in the dog house or something?”

“It’s an inside joke.” Steve reassures.

“I sure hope so, Son.” Jim bags the yoyo and hands it over. “If he’s anything like my wife, if he doesn’t get the joke he’ll have you out on the couch for the next month or so.”

“How much?” Steve digs in his coat pocket for the money he knows Bucky stuffed in there.

“It’s on the house.” Jim closes the register and leans on the counter. “Nobody was gonna buy that thing. You did me a favor taking it off of my hands.”

“Sir, I couldn’t-”

“Don’t argue with me, young man.” Jim wags a finger at Steve sternly. “This is my shop, and if I want to give stuff away, I damn well will.” He turns to the two teenagers still idling in the comics section. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Billy and Charlie!”

“Thank you, Jim.” Steve holds out a hand for Jim to shake.

Jim grins and shakes his hand. “Merry Christmas, Steve. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” Steve promises as he wraps his scarf back around his neck and heads out the door. He expects to still have some time to kill before Bucky makes it back to town considering it takes them close to an hour to walk to town, and Bucky has to go all the way to the cottage and back. But Bucky’s always been full of surprises.

“Did you run all the way there and back?” Steve yells when he sees Bucky in the center of town, heading towards him. He shoves the bag under his too big coat, away from Bucky’s prying eyes, and gives Bucky an unimpressed look. “Look Ma, I made it a whole hour all by myself without dying.”

“Most people would be grateful to have such a caring boyfriend.” Bucky says, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder, dragging him in close.

“I think the word you’re looking for is over-bearing.”

“The word I’m looking for is ‘ _ fuck’ _ , and I can’t do that until we get back to the cabin.” Bucky leans down to whisper, “Unless you’re into getting arrested for public indecency. Got a wild side you wanna try out, Stevie?”

“It’s like 20 degrees out here Bucky.”

“That wasn’t a no.”      

“That was a  _ hell no _ for this particular time and place.” Steve corrects, grinning mischievously at Bucky. “However, if we want to explore a public area in a more weather controlled environment, the Tower per say, I could be amenable to that.”

Bucky looks at Steve with wide eyes full of lust. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, ending up with you.”

“You can get lucky  _ with _ me if you save the sappy declarations for when we’re somewhere warm.” Steve slides a hand into the back pocket of Bucky’s jeans, pinches his ass. “I’ll show you just how lucky you really are.” 

“We’re gonna talk more about what counts as a public area in the tower right? Because, I’m really hoping Stark’s lab counts.”

“You get me to the cabin before my fingers get frostbite and I’ll blow you in Tony’s lab whether he’s there or not.” Steve rolls his eyes, picking up his pace as snow starts to fall.

“I think Tony might enjoy that too much. He’s got a lot of Howard in him.”

“And  _ I  _ can have a lot of  _ you _ in  _ me  _ as soon as you hurry the fuck up _. _ ” 

∞

Steve wakes up to the smell of potato pancakes and warm apple cider, and an empty bed. He rolls over and blinks an eye open blearily to look at the clock, groaning when he sees 10am. “Why did you let me sleep so late?!” He yells.

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Stevie!” Bucky hollers back cheerfully. “We were up half the night fucking. I thought you could use the extra sleep.”

“How long have you been up?” Steve hops into the closest pair of sweats, thankfully his own, and pulls on one of Bucky’s long sleeved shirts before joining Bucky in the kitchen.

“Long enough to make breakfast.” Bucky turns when Steve enters, waving the spatula at a pile of pancakes. “Just like Sarah used to make.”

“She’d be happy that at least one of us learned to cook.” Steve swipes a pancake off the plate and stuffs it in his mouth. “What brought this on?” He asks around a mouthful of food, gesturing to the food and cider.

“I thought we could do Christmas like we used to do with her. Open our presents today and go to  midnight mass tonight.” Bucky pours a glass of cider for Steve and hands it over. “That’s disgusting, by the way. If you choke on that, I’m not giving you mouth to mouth.”

Steve snorts, only choking a little. “You’d give me the Heimlich, Buck. Not mouth to mouth, though I’m sure you’d jump at the chance to do that too.” 

“Eat your breakfast you little shit, so we can open presents.” 

“Whatever you say, Bucky.” Steve grabs another pancake and chugs the cider, enjoying the warmth it fills him with. He stuffs the other potato pancake in his mouth. “I’m ready when you are.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Go take a seat, I gotta get your present out of the bedroom.” Bucky turns off the stove and waves Steve into the living room.

Steve tries to remember where he put the bag with Bucky’s present, and finally remembers it got flung halfway across the living room when Bucky tore his jacket off the night before. He locates the bag in the corner closest to the entryway and grabs the yoyo out of it, before sitting in one of the arm chairs by the fire and placing the present on the floor behind him. He eyes the large present Bucky carries into the room excitedly. “That’s for me?”

“No, it’s for Stark. I forgot yours.” Bucky sits in the arm chair next to Steve’s. “Of course it’s yours.”

Steve makes grabby hands for the present.

“I guess I’ll go first then.” Bucky hesitates when he goes to hand his present over, looking more insecure than Steve ever remembers seeing him. “Here.” He finally says, shoving the brightly wrapped box into Steve’s lap. “Natasha and Sam helped me out.” He confesses.

Steve smiles reassuringly at him and carefully tears the wrapping paper away to reveal a leather bound book. He casts a quick glance up at Bucky, who seems to be holding his breath, and then flips the cover open to look at the first page. “Oh, Bucky.” He breathes out, voice heavy with emotion. “How did you get these?”

Bucky lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, looking away. “I told you I kept all the stuff you gave me.  I kept what I could in my pack.”

“You didn’t have your pack on you when you fell.” Steve says numbly.

Bucky nods, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I guess the Howlies didn’t want you to have to deal with it so they turned it into Peggy who turned it over to the Smithsonian when they opened the exhibition. When I told Natasha I wanted to give you some of our old stuff, she contacted the exhibit about giving me my stuff back.”

Steve runs his fingers reverently over the first picture, one of him and Bucky, laughing and standing next to each other, a still from the prop reel they shot together on campaign. Under it, Bucky had attached one of the drawings Steve had done of the Howlies, after their first successful mission. He flips through each page silently, taking it all in, lost for words.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“I love it.” Steve rasps, blinking back tears. It’s so much more than a present, it’s their history,  _ their story _ , carefully placed in pages to be preserved forever. “It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He sniffs and rubs his eyes, laughing hoarsely. “There’s no way I can top that. I should have gone first.”

He reaches behind himself and grabs a small box with a large red bow on top, presenting it shyly to Bucky. “It’s stupid.” He sighs when Bucky takes it. “I’m sorry, I should have planned ahead better.”

“Steve,” Bucky takes the box and puts it aside, leaning forward to cup Steve’s face between his hands, holding his gaze. “Getting to be here, with you, is the single best present I could have ever asked for. Anything else is just icing on the cake.”

Bucky waits until Steve nods before pulling away to open his present. He pops the top of the box off and tosses it aside, grinning hugely when he sees what’s inside. “You remembered.” He murmurs, pulling out the yo-yo made to look like Steve’s shield. “I love it.”

“I just, I know how much the other one meant to you, and I wanted to give you that memory again.” He scrunches his toes in the carpet, looking shyly up at Bucky through lowered lashes. 

“It’s perfect.” Bucky grins wider, licking his lips. “If we didn’t have plans for the rest of the day, I’d fuck your brains out right now.”

Steve’s pupils dilate and he inches forward, towards Bucky. “The plans aren’t set in stone. I’m not all that sold on ice skating anyway.”

“No, no there will be plenty of time for that later.” Bucky shakes his head, but his eyes run over Steve’s body lustfully . “We’ve gotta make it until midnight mass tonight, and we both know sex puts you to sleep.”

“Now who’s being the fun sucker?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.

Bucky rolls his eyes and stands up, putting his present carefully on the coffee table before turning to wink at Steve. “I’ll suck something other than fun later on if you’re a good boy.”

“Tease.” Steve pouts.

 “Punk.”

“Jerk.”  

“Just so you know, name calling is the opposite of being a good boy.” Bucky tosses Steve his jacket, hitting him in the face with it.

“Shut up and put your jacket on so we can leave.” Steve rolls his eyes, struggling into his heavy coat. Large, calloused hands circle Steve’s waist and help fasten the buttons. “You’re making it really hard to want to leave.” He turns in Bucky’s arms. “And don’t you dare say ‘that’s not the only thing that’s hard’.”

“You said it, not me.” Bucky smiles down at him, and it’s a smile so carefree and full of love that Steve has to physically tear himself away from Bucky to keep from surging forward and kissing it off Bucky’s lips.

“I’m ready when you are.” Steve slips on his snow boots and pulls open the door. “The ice waits for no man.”

The town doesn’t really have an ice skating rink, but they do have a pond that freezes over without fail every winter, and someone who is savvy enough to realize they can rent out ice skates at and make some money.  

There are only a few other people out on the pond when they get there, which Steve appreciates because he’s not too fond of falling flat on his face in front of a large group of people. Steve stares at the ice as Bucky goes to get their skates, a weird feeling bubbling in his gut.

He hasn’t liked the cold all that much since he was defrosted, but it doesn’t bother him. Apparently, a body of water completely iced over  _ does _ bother him though, because the longer he stares at it, the more unease he feels, phantom pain spreading deep into his bones, the sound the plane had made when it crashed into ice ringing in his head.

“Hey, Stevie, you okay?” Bucky’s voice jars him out of it.

He blinks at Bucky and represses the urge to shake off the water droplets he feels clinging to his skin that he knows aren’t there. “Yeah, I’m good. You get the skates?”

It’s a dumb question and a bad attempt at deflection. Bucky’s face shows how unimpressed he is with it. “You look like I do after a nightmare.” His gaze casts around the area, scanning for whatever could have caused Steve’s reaction before settling on the ice. “Have you been on ice since you woke up?”

“I don’t think so.” Steve crouches and sits on the ground, holding his hand to Bucky for his skates. “Didn’t know it would be like this.”

“Steve, we don’t have to…” Bucky starts, hesitantly holding Steve’s skates out to him.

Steve takes them and cuts him off, “I want to.” He insists. “Besides, what am I gonna do? Avoid ice forever? I don’t think so. I want to go ice skating, so that’s what I’m going to do.” He glances up at Bucky as he ties his skates. “Are you gonna join me?”

Bucky huffs but plops on the ground next to Steve and pulls his own skates on, shoving Steve to the side gently with his shoulder.  “You’re bossy.”

“You love it.” Steve sing-songs, standing up on wobbly legs. “Holy shit, this is a lot harder than it looks.” His arms windmill at his sides as he tries to stay on his feet. “I take it back about wanting to do this.”

“No takebacks.” Bucky sing-songs back, standing up gracefully. Steve struggles to resist the urge to push him down. “C’mon, Stevie, you can hold my hand. I’ll keep you on your feet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but grabs Bucky’s hand anyway, letting Bucky tug him to his feet. He wobbles unsteadily until Bucky pulls him close with an arm around his waist and steadies him. “How’re you so good at this?”

“Superior natural athletic ability?”

“I see that, and humility, are some of your top skills. Impressive.”

“Don’t be cranky, Stevie.” Bucky steps onto the ice, lifting Steve off of the snow bank and onto the ice after him. “C’mon, you said you wanted to ice skate. I’m holding you to your word.” 

For the first little while on the ice, Bucky keeps Steve tucked against his side, doing most of the heavy lifting on keeping Steve upright, but then he lets Steve skate a little bit away from him, only supporting him by holding hands.

“Bucky, this was a terrible idea!” Steve pants, hands out in front of him like it’ll stop him from falling. “Why did you let me decide this was a good idea?”

“Because when have you  _ ever _ listened to me when I told you something was a bad idea?” Bucky asks, perplexed.

“Point taken.” Steve huffs. “Okay, I think this is about all the exercise my body can take. I feel like my thighs are going to secede from my body.”

“The south does have a tendency to do that.” Bucky agrees, reeling Steve in closer. “Don’t pitch a fit.” He says, and picks Steve up around the waist before Steve can ask what he’s talking about. He carries Steve off the ice and sets him on the snow bank. “You ready to do something else now?”

Steve squints up at Bucky, wiping some snowflakes off his forehead; he refuses to believe its sweat.  “Will we be too early at the Soup Kitchen if we leave now?”

Bucky looks up at the sun. “Judging by the position of the sun in relation to…”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Steve swats his leg with his free hand, pulling his ice skate off with the other.

“I have no idea, Stevie. Maybe.” Bucky shrugs, dropping down next to Steve, and yanking his skate off for him. “You wanna head over anyway?”

“Might as well.” Steve waits until Bucky has returned their skates to get to his feet. He glances back at the ice once, when they’re walking away. The weird feeling from earlier doesn’t return. He considers that a win. 

They’re not too early when they get to the local soup kitchen. In fact, according to Sister Martha they’re right on time. Bucky, James as he tells them to call him, is pointed in the direction of the kitchen when he admits he’s adequate in the kitchen. Steve is barred from even thinking about entering the kitchen when he tells Sister Martha the story of the time he blew up his microwave by trying to boil an egg in it.

Steve instead is sent into the dining room to set up tables and chair, greet the families coming in early to get out of the snow, and run dishes out from the kitchen to the serving table. The pace keeps Steve grounded; the hustle and bustle of people and food being moved around keeps him calm and centered. He feels alive and at home, just right in his skin in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. 

He and Bucky serve an early dinner and then a later dinner. They stay until the last person has left the kitchen, and every dish has been washed and dried and put away. Then it’s just them and Sister Martha left in the building, all of them pleasantly tired from the hard work, but filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

“You boys are coming to mass aren’t you?” Sister Martha asks as she checks the timer for the coffee machine and puts on her coat. “You look like you could use a service. How long has it been since you’ve been to one?”

“Too long.” Steve answers honestly. “But we’re coming tonight.”

“Good, you can walk me over.” Martha holds the door open for them to exit first. “An old lady like me, I probably shouldn’t be out walking after dark on my own.”

“Ma’am if you’re a day over 35, I’m a World War 2 veteran.” Bucky says seriously, winking at Steve when Sister Martha’s not looking. Steve coughs to cover up his laughter.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” Sister Martha nudges Steve with an elbow. “You sure got lucky with this one.”

“I’m afraid I’m the lucky one here. Steve saved my life. More than once, and in more ways than one.” Bucky laces his fingers with Steve’s. “There’s not a luckier man on Earth than me.”

Sister Martha coughs gently when Bucky and Steve stop walking, caught up in each other’s gazes. “Well you two could sure teach our parishioners a lesson or two on love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a couple more in love than you two.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying so, you’ve been really great about us being a couple. I thought that went against the church’s philosophy.”

Sister Martha hums thoughtfully. “I suppose some people would say it is.” She stops in front of the steps of the Church to turn and face them. “We call the Church, God’s House. And if we are God’s children, and God loves all of his children, than I think it only makes sense that in God’s House we celebrate His children finding love, in whatever form it comes in.”

She smiles and cups both their cheeks gently. “Everyone deserves to be loved. And they deserve to be able to love without worrying that God will turn his back on them.” She pats their cheeks. “Now, we should go inside before I become a martyr for the cause and freeze to death out here.”

Steve and Bucky follow Sister Martha up the stairs and into the church, kneeling to genuflect when they enter. “I’ve got to go prepare for the service. I’ll see you boys later.” Sister Martha kisses both their cheeks before she heads off towards the back of the church. 

Steve spots the candles first and nudges Bucky in their direction. He pauses when he gets to them, memories of lighting them with his ma flashing through his mind. His breath hitches. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Bucky picks up the lighter and places it in Steve’s hand. “Yes you can.” He wraps his hand over Steve’s and guides it towards an unlit candle. “This is what she’d want you to do.”

Steve’s hand shakes as he presses the lighter to the candle wick. He has to take a deep breath before he can manage to press the button and light the candle. As soon as the wick catches fire, he feels a rush of simultaneous relief and sorrow. “Sorry that it took me so long to do this, Ma.” He whispers, wiping his watery eyes with the back of his hand as Bucky takes the lighter out of his hand.

He sniffles as Bucky lights his own candle, looks up at Bucky questioningly. Bucky gives a sad smile. “For everyone. Sarah, Becca, my ma and pa, Dugan, Gabe, Morita. For them all.”

After that, Mass is easy to sit through. They go through the motions, sit when they’re supposed to, kneel when they’re supposed to, stand and sing when they’re supposed to, but Steve knows his heart isn’t really in it. He also knows it’ll probably be his final midnight mass. His ma would understand. 

Like good Catholics, they’re out of the church as soon as the last song has been sung and the last ‘may the peace be with you’ recited.  

The walk back to their cabin is done silently, the softly falling snow and the gentle chirps of birds the perfect accompaniment to their thoughtful moods. “Do you think she would have been happy about us?” Steve asks when Bucky opens the cabin door for him. “Do you think she would have thought we were an abomination?”

Bucky takes the question seriously, waving Steve inside and thinking hard about his answer. “I think she would have been as happy as she could have been considering the circumstances.” He finally says, helping Steve out of his coat. “I think she would have been worried about what our relationship would have meant for you. Not your immortal soul or whatever, but what would happen if we were caught. She’s your mother; she loved you more than anything else in this world. That I’m absolutely sure of.” 

Steve turns and throws his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “You know  you were wrong earlier.” Steve mumbles, pulling away slightly so he can see Bucky’s face. “You told Sister Martha that you were the luckiest man on Earth.”

Bucky cards a hand through Steve’s hair. “That’s because I am.”

“You told her there wasn’t another man on Earth as lucky as you, but you were wrong. I’m as lucky as you, if not luckier. I ended up with you.” Steve says. It’s sappy as hell, but it’s undeniably the truth. 

“I guess that makes us the two luckiest guys on Earth.” Bucky chuckles. “Seems fair to me. All the bad we’ve gone through? We deserve something good.”

“Who would have thought this would end up being the best Christmas I’ve ever had?”  Steve murmurs, pushing Bucky’s coat off his shoulders. “A week ago I would have sworn it was gonna be the worst Christmas I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.”

Bucky strips off his shirt and kicks off his boots and jeans as Steve does the same. “Maybe that bullshit about things happening for a reason isn’t completely wrong.” Bucky goes to head towards the bedroom, but Steve tugs him towards the living room. “The carpet?”

“It really is the softest thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like it’s made of unicorn hair or something.”

“You need to sleep, Stevie.” Bucky lays down and pulls Steve on top of him. “You get weird when you’re tired.”

Steve’s just starting to fall asleep, Bucky’s steady breathing and heartbeat lulling him into unconsciousness when the emergency corresponder goes off, trill alarm blaring through the air. Steve shuts his opens stubbornly as Bucky groans and rolls to his feet, making his way on unsteady legs across the room to where they’d placed the satcom on an end table.

“It’s three in the morning!” Bucky barks into the phone. Steve feels a little bad for whoever’s on the other end, before he remembers he was basking in some serious cuddling and affection before they were so rudely interrupted.

“Thor just got back from Asgard. We’ve got the cure.” Natasha’s no-nonsense voice floats out of the speaker. 

Bucky’s voice is a lot less harsh when he replies, “We’re on our way.”

“Tony sent the plane your way, should be landing any minute.” Natasha says, followed by a loud click signaling she hung up.

Bucky drops the phone and looks down at Steve who blinks up at him sleepily. “Merry Christmas to us, I guess.”

“We could wait until tomorrow. It’s not like waiting one more day would hurt anyone.” Steve suggests, watching Bucky pull on his jeans and t-shirt. “We could spend Christmas together just the two of us.”

“You know, your mom use to say ‘Christmas is about family.’ I think she would want us to spend it with our family. And as much as I might hate it, your team is our family” Bucky leans down to hand Steve his clothes, kissing him lightly. “Besides, aren’t you ready to be back in your big ass body?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, I am, but this was nice. Getting away, being by ourselves. I guess I just don’t want to give it up so soon.”

“Steve, just because you’re going to be Captain America again doesn’t mean we can’t ever go on vacation again. Hell, just getting your body back doesn’t mean you have to _ be _ Captain America again. We can say fuck it to Shield or whatever and live here permanently. Whatever you want to do, I’m with you.”  

“What I want to do right now is get this over with.” Steve rubs his face, patting his cheeks to wake himself up some. “I’ll figure the rest out later.” He tugs on a t-shirt and slips his sweatpants back on as Bucky rushes around packing everything back up.

“Ready?” Bucky asks as he carefully packs away their Christmas presents in the last bag. “I think that’s everything. But if we forgot anything, I’m sure we can come back and pick it up.”

“Is the jet here?” Steve pushes to his feet and tries to see through the fogged up window.

“It will be by the time we get out to the airstrip, I’m sure.” He grabs their bags and his jacket and gestures to the door. “After you, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he pulls on his jacket and heads towards the door. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with this chivalrous crap.”

“Me? Can’t I just be being nice to my boyfriend?”  Bucky kicks the door shut behind him, and nods towards the beams of light slowly getting closer. “Told you the jet would be here by the time we got out here.”

“Distraction only works if the distraction is good enough.” Steve retorts, shivering as he trudges through the snow. “The next time we come here, let’s do it when it’s warm.”

“Whatever you want, Stevie.”

The door to the jet is open and waiting for them by the time they get to the tarmac. Steve and Bucky waste no time boarding and settling in. “I’m gonna miss this place.” Bucky says softly as he buckles in. Steve plans on responding, but he’s asleep before he can even open his mouth.

Steve has to be shaken awake when the jet lands on the roof of the tower. “What? M’awake.” He mumbles and gets shakily to his feet, eyes still half-closed. “We there?”

“Am I going to need to carry you down the stairs as well as the bags, or do you think you can actually wake up?”  Bucky chuckles, shouldering the bags with one hand, and guiding Steve to the exit with the other.

“M’fine.” He says, waking up as soon as the first blast of ice cold air hits him in the face. “I’m awake.”

The team is waiting for them on the roof, in various states of alertness. Bruce and Tony are chatting excitedly with one another, looking way too alert and put together for the hour. Clint and Natasha, both clad in pajamas are leaning against each other, and if Steve had to guess, he’d bet on them sleeping with their eyes open. Thor and Sam round out the group, both drinking coffee and looking like they haven’t sleep in the last couple of days.

“You all didn’t have to get up for this.” Steve says when they approach. He’s touched at the gesture, but he’s also not sure if he wants everyone around to witness his transformation back. He might not even want Bucky there, if it’s going to be as painful as the first time. “Especially on Christmas, you should all be with your families, or at the very least, sleeping. I don’t want to ruin your holiday.”

His voice seems to snap Natasha and Clint out of their daze because Clint scoffs and stands up straight. “Are you kidding? There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

Sam drags him into a hug as the others call out their greetings and the elevator doors open. “It’s good to see you, man.” Sam scrutinizes Steve’s face, herding him into the elevator. “You look a lot happier than when you left, Steve. I think that vacation was good for you. Maybe you should do it more often.”

Steve smiles but doesn’t respond, nerves making it hard to concentrate on any one thought. “So how’s this going to work?” Steve asks the group.

“One injection will purge the remnants of the magic from your system, Captain” Thor pulls out a vial of reddish liquid. “This is from my planet. The healers have assured me you will feel no ill effects from this purging.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?” Bucky eyes the vial warily. “For mortals, I mean. Your healers are sure it’s safe for regular humans?”

The elevator dings, door sliding open. “I would not knowingly put the Captain in jeopardy.” Thor assures as they spill out into the medical unit.

“Alright Cap, if you’ll just go lie down and get comfortable, we’ll get everything set up.” Tony motions him towards one of the beds. “You might want to change first. I’m not sure your clothes will expand with you.”

Bruce hands over a hospital gown and smiles reassuringly at Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. You’ll be fixed before you know it.”

Bucky steps in front of Steve to block the others’ view as Steve slips the hospital gown on and pulls his clothes out from under it. Steve taps Bucky on the shoulder once the gown is securely in place. “This is a lot different than the first time around.” Steve tells Bucky as he climbs into the closest bed.

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Bucky asks seriously. “You don’t have to. Or you can have more time to think about it.”

“I’m ready.”

“Well, that’s good because so are we.” Tony interrupts, rolling over some machines. “Okay metal man, if you could just wait over there with the others that would be awesome.”

“What if I want to stay over here with Steve?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at Tony, taking a step closer to Steve’s bed.

“Not an option. We need room for the machines to monitor his vitals.” Tony kneels to plug in the machines. “Plus, we’re not sure if there will be any kind of blowback from the magic being purged.”

When Bucky looks like he’s about to argue, Steve cuts in. “Buck, just go wait over there. It’ll be fine.  _ I’ll _ be fine.”

“Fine.” Bucky hesitates, then leans down to kiss Steve’s forehead. “I’ll be right over there.”

“God, Bucky, it’s not like I’m going off to war and leaving you behind. No need to be so worried.”  Steve grins wide and unrepentant as he shoos Bucky away.

“That’s below the belt, Rogers!” Bucky calls back as he acquiesces.

“This is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.” Tony says as he hooks Steve up to the machines. “Don’t tell Rhodey I said that, though. He thinks my favorite Christmas present was the video game he gave me in college.”

“Your father was just as excited to experiment on me. I almost didn’t want to let him go through with it.” Steve breathes steadily, watching his vitals scroll across the machine screens. “And I didn’t trust him nearly as much.” The ‘ _ as I trust you’ _ is clear in Steve’s tone.

Tony grins and hums excitedly. “We’re all set, just waiting on you Bruce.” He winks at Steve before backing up to the other side of the room.

Bruce approaches calmly, syringe in hand. “You ready, Steve?”

Steve nods, knuckles fisted in the sheets at his sides. He grinds his jaw down, determined to keep from screaming this time around.

“Sharp pinch, okay.” Bruce says, pinching the meat of Steve’s arm and pushing the needle on.

There’s a second of nothing after Bruce withdraws the needle and crosses the room, and then Steve feels a burning sensation run through his body. It hurts, his veins burn with liquid fire and his muscles cramp like he has a Charlie horse in every single spot on his body, but it’s not nearly as painful as the original serum.

He focuses on the beeps of the machines, rising steadily in speed and pitch as he tries to keep his breathing even, tears building in his eyes from the force of keeping silent. And then just as quickly as it came on, it’s over. His muscles shake, a deep set ache that feels like he ran the marathon of marathons, and with a sigh of relief he opens his eyes.

The world is just as clear and colorful as he remembers. He searches for Bucky first, who’s already halfway to Steve’s side, and smiles happily at him. Then his eyes find Tony, and with every bit of sass he’s capable of dredging up, he grins at Tony and says, “It’s a Christmas Miracle!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can find me on [tumblr](http://captainbisexualcherry.tumblr.com/) crying over two dumb boys from Brooklyn.


End file.
